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by notjustmom



Series: Snippets and Doodles [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: not really a continuation, but if it makes you happy, you could read it that way, these pieces are just one offs, that might fit together :)





	1. Chapter 1

The wind caught his coat and twirled him around, the snow was starting to stick to his hair and to the sidewalk in front of him. He should go home. But, for a moment, he leaned against the building and closed his eyes. Before John, there were many winter nights like this, where he would walk for hours, working on something, or simply walking, or smoking a cigarette, maybe stopping for chips... maybe having a chat with someone, but mostly he had been alone. Lonely? No. Not really, he honestly didn't know what loneliness was before John walked into his life. He had never had a friend, not someone who tolerated - no, it had never been tolerance on John's part... he had somehow accepted him, possibly been annoyed by parts of him, but he accepted all the bits, the quirks, the bursts of mood - and when John would be away, even just at the shops, he understood loneliness.

The wind shanged direction, and Sherlock pulled up his collar, then turned back home, back to John. He shrugged and shook his head; weren't they one and the same?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not really a continuation, but if it makes you happy, you could read it that way, these pieces are just one offs, that might fit together :)

Sherlock took the steps in silence, avoiding the creaky step altogether, then pushed open the door to the flat, and closed his eyes as he took a breath in. He slipped out of his water-clogged shoes, untied his scarf, hanging it on its hook, then shrugged out of his coat, it would be dry by morning, especially with the fire going. He held his coat in his hands for a moment as he released his breath and looked over at John. Some might see the still man dozing in his chair as unremarkable, but Sherlock knew better. He shook out his coat and hung it up, then ruffled the now melted snow from his hair and moved quietly until he settled at John's feet.

John opened his eyes and smiled down at him. When they were younger, he most certainly would have rolled his eyes at him, and nagged him to get changed into dry clothes, to put on the kettle, and remind him there was dinner still warm on the stove, he had waited for him, but... Now, however, he simply ran his fingers through Sherlock's already drying curls, tugged just enough to make his eyes flutter shut, then move close enough to kiss Sherlock on the forehead; pull back, and wait until Sherlock turned so he could lean agaimst John's legs, his slowly greying curls, kept even longer now, as John preferred it, rested in John's strong, steady hands.

"A good walk, then?"

"Hmm." Sherlock nodded. There were words he could say, but he'd said them all before, in every language he knew. Al last count, he could tell John how he felt about him in thirtee - no, fourteen different tongues, and BSL. But, he knew John knew, so he said nothing of consequence.


End file.
